


If Less Is More (There's No End to Me)

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Jewish Character, Meet the Family, Romance, Short, Thanksgiving Dinner, marie is teensy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: He didn’t exactly expect to avoid his family forever. He just didn’t exactly want the first time they met his rather pregnant gentile girlfriend to be at his mother’s annual Thanksgiving dinner.





	

_“Short and sweet, wee Aphrodite: tres petite but mucho mighty. Mini muffin, ain’t she something?  
_ _Mini muffin, sweet as a pie.”_

_~Spinal Tap; Short and Sweet_

* * *

 

Stein could have sworn that he didn’t even own a phone before Marie showed up in his life, but lo and behold, it was blaring at the ungodly hour of noon while he was trying to sleep, and he rolled over, the sheets getting tangled with his legs as he burrowed his face in the pillow.

“Marie!” he whined uselessly, his head throbbing. “When did we get a phone?”

From the side, he heard her giggle, likely lifting herself up on an elbow. “You’ve  _had_ a phone, Frank. Drank too much wine last night? Date night was _wild_.”

“It is unfair that you do not have to suffer as I do,” he muttered, and Marie laughed once more. When he cracked his eyes open, she was stretching like a cat, seemingly far more composed than he was. Which would definitely be the case, considering she wasn’t drinking due to being pregnant. And he, stupidly, drank too much during movie night. His head was killing him. “Marie-“

“Shhh. I’ll pick it up, you big baby,” she remarked playfully, poking his shoulder hard enough to have him rolling onto his back as she leaned over him and grabbed up the phone.

“Patchwork labs!” she remarked cheerfully, sounding more like a receptionist than his girlfriend. “This is Marie speaking.”

There was silence for a moment as the other person must have been speaking, but he didn’t bother looking at her until she heard her make a surprised noise. “Mrs. Stein! Yes- oh, um, of course he’s here- I-“

He bolted up immediately, almost knocking Marie off the bed, her yelp high and slightly shrill as he steadied her, shaking his head repeatedly. The last thing he needed to do was speak to his mother whilst hungover. “Marie,” he hissed, “tell her I’m not-“

“Yes! Yep, uh- you can definitely talk to hi-…oh, you know! He’s just been busy and- no, no wedding- ah- haha- we aren’t like tha- yeah, just- I’ll be one second while I give him the phone.”

Her panicked expression must have mirrored his own as she covered up the receiver with her palm. “You still haven’t told her about the baby?” she asked, her voice a whispered kind of harsh. “The holidays are coming up-“

“I know-“

“I’m already starting to _show_. How are you going to explain to your _rabbi_ of a mother that you knocked up your _gentile girlfriend-_ “

“Shhhhh- will you just- give me the phone, I’ll figure it out.”

Marie huffed, all but shoving the phone into his hands. “I’ll be downstairs, making waffles.”

He watched her leave in a whirlwind of blonde hair and bumblebee socks and one of his old shirts, hearing the mildly too loud bang that indicated she was frustrated. Of course, if she was making waffles of all things, she was definitely trying to work out some aggression. She hated baking.

He lifted the phone to his ear. “Mother-“

“Franky!” she said, all too loudly and particularly excited. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you called your poor mother?”

“I’ve been-“

“And that sweet Marie picked up the phone instead of you. I’m telling you, Franky, one of these days, you’ll need to propose to her. She’s your soul-mate, isn’t she?”

“Soul- soul partner,” he corrected, almost nervously, feeling his heart throb warmly at the idea. But before he could continue on to explain the difference, his mother already switched over to German as she babbled excitedly.

“Anyway! I was thinking, boychik, that you could bring her over for the Thanksgiving dinner!”

“Dinner? Mother-“

“It’s in just a few days, don’t tell me you forgot?”

“I-“

“Arnold!” she said, chattering briefly in Yiddish to Stein’s father for a moment. “You speak to your son. He forgot about the dinner! And after all his cousins came- bah!”

There was a muffled sound, likely of the phone exchanging hands before his father’s voice, far deeper than his own and accented lightly, rung out. “Frank,” his father said, by way of greeting.

“Father.”

“Oh, don’t sound like a cat rubbed the wrong way. Your mother wants what’s best.”

“This is merely another excuse for her to gather an inappropriately large number of people under one shelter to talk for hours pointlessly,” Stein muttered, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Naturally. But it would make her happy.”

“Did everyone appear?”

“Even your Great Aunt Gladice.”

Stein groaned. There was no chance in hell. He hated going to the damn Thanksgiving dinners his mother always loved to organize. For one, he ended up surrounded by approximately fourteen cousins and twelve nieces, all of them trying to cram into his Mother and Father’s home fit for a grand total of five: maximum. It was at least a six hour drive to get to the place, besides, and all that ended up happening was that he was regulated to the role of turkey carver while his mother lit candles and they all asked him when he was going to be married.

No way. No chance in _hell._

“And she really wants to meet your…friend,” his father added.

“Which?” Stein remarked, absentmindedly, too busy trying to think up a believable excuse.

“Your soul mate. That Marie woman.”

Stein could have choked on his spit. “Father-“

“She wants to give you Nana’s ring. Or- well, Nana wants to give you Nana’s ring.”

“No,” Stein said immediately. “No, we can’t go. I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you.”

“Hm. Shame. It appears-“

“Franky!” he heard his mother in the background. “I just called your soulmate! She said you two can come! Oh, it’ll be lovely!”

“…”

“What was that, son?”

Stein sighed, pinching his nose as Marie slammed the door open, looking panicked and immediately ran to her closet, muttering about what they should wear or bring or if her pie recipes were kosher.

“When are we expected to arrive?” he asked, resigned.

“Promptly.”

* * *

Fuck, his ass was numb after that damn six hour drive, and Marie was practically vibrating as her hands shook around the container holding the pie. He didn’t much blame her. His own hands were shaking on the steering wheel, but it was far too late to back down, now.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his family. His parents had been oddly supportive of him, a trait he simply assumed came from the natural mammalian instinct to protect ones young, but despite how religious his Mother was, she never really pressured him to go to synagogue, or wear his yarmulke. And when she’d learned that he was to attend the DWMA, per Lord Death’s orders, she didn’t shun him like he’d expected. For all accounts, they were a rather liberal family. He doubted that Marie would be unwelcome, regardless of her fears.

Truthfully, were he to reveal that they were expecting a child, his parents would likely only be ecstatic. As their only child, he was their only chance to become grandparents. Something his mother very vocally, and his father slightly less so, were adamant about. A man is not an island, or some other turn of phrase.

And, besides, he’d attended almost every dinner since leaving home, anyway.

His mother had a profound talent for pulling out the fake tears and telling him that she just wanted to see her sweet baby boy before she was doomed to expire and the last he’d know of her was to sit shiva.

She had well over a few decades left on her life at _least,_ the drama queen. But it was enough. Because of his mother pulled out the tears, his Nana would certainly come hobbling in. And once his Nana came into the picture-

The woman was well over the decrepit age of 102, spoke nothing but an odd amalgamation of Hebrew, Yiddish, and German, with, oddly enough, some Romanian thrown in, and could probably guilt trip him into an early grave were she so inclined. And so, there they were. Pulling up to the street where his parents had moved to when he was just 8 years old and scouted for the DWMA originally, taking him to the United States from his native Germany.

They hadn’t changed the doormat in well over two and a half decades. Amazing.

“Frank…” Marie’s small voice came out.

“Hm?” he asked, too busy trying to find a place to parallel park.

“What if…what if your family doesn’t like me.”

“Preposterous. You were voted most likeable when we attended the DWMA.” He didn’t mention how he voted for her, too. Twice.

He didn’t need to look at her to know she was twiddling with her thumbs. “Well…yeah. But that’s school. Will they hate me because I’m…you know?”

“A weapon?” he asked, all too accustomed to the prejudices that Marie had undergone from people who didn’t understand the strength she had in her veins.

“ _No_ ,” she emphasized. “Not Jewish. Or did you forget?”

He paused, his foot on the brake pedal, halfway pulled into his parking spot. But he wanted to look at her. “Marie, I haven’t practiced in well over a decade and they don’t despise me.”

“But you’re their _family_. I’m just…a random woman.”

“My mother likely already adores you. She informed me that I was to bring you or not come at all.”

“Really?” she asked, her face lighting up.

“Well, not in so many words. But the sentiment was there.”

“But- but what if I disappoint them or- or they want me to convert or-“

“You are going to enter into a hyperventilating state if you do not relax, Marie.”

“But what-“

Stein parked successfully, pulling his keys out of the ignition and reaching out to grab the pie pan Marie was holding, purposefully placing his hands over her own. “My mother will enjoy your presence.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Marie asked quietly, her eye bouncing from one of his to the other. “What if she hates me and she never wants you to see me again?”

“Then I suppose it is a good thing that I make my own decisions, hm?”

“And you’d decide me?”

“I’ve already decided on you, Marie,” he told her, painfully honest. Rarely, if ever, did he go into such verbal depth with her. Truthfully, were he the same man he was a few years ago, he’d never even go that far. But people change, he knew. He’d changed. The tenderness he felt for her was…unexpected in its intensity. And when she smiled- Lord. People could believe in gods from that expression.

“Okay,” she said. “I guess we’re facing the music together, huh?”

“I suppose so.”

* * *

They’d been knocking for a good four minutes, and, damnit all, it was cold. Marie was dressed modestly, as she always was, but though she was in a long sleeved  shirt, empire waisted to better hide the mild baby bump she was developing, courtesy of him, and a long, slightly billow skirt, she still shivered. He had shrugged out of his jacket a good two minutes ago to drape over her shoulders, but she still looked a tad chilled.

And the shaking was particularly prominent due to just how miniscule she was. She’d forgone her usual heels, as her feet were already starting to give her some problems with the extra weight she was carrying due to expecting, so she was in a pair of simple flats that dropped her down to almost the height of his bellybutton.

Well, he was exaggerating a tad. But she was damn close.

“Did they forget we were coming?” she asked, adjusting the pie in her grasp.

“My mother forgets nothing-“

“Arnold!” a shrill voice called out. “Get the door! It’s likely your son!”

“Or it could be the pizza man, dear.”

“WHO ORDERED PIZZA???”

“It was a joke, Golda!” he called back, and without much more warning, the door swung open and Marie was faced with a carbon copy of her boyfriend, aged a few decades. Her mouth could have dropped open. Well. She sees where he gets his height. His father was at least two inches taller than him.

“Frank!” his father remarked, and Stein nodded awkwardly, stooping slightly as he placed his hands into the pockets of the smart grey trousers Marie had all but wrestled him into, telling him that he was going to look nice for this gathering. Something that was particularly out of character for him.

“Father,” he nodded, and watched as his dad’s expression grew confused.

“Where is your partner?” he asked, looking around, and Marie was aghast. She coughed once, but it was covered up by Stein’s amused smirk.

“Look down,” he remarked, and Stein’s father did with a startle, having the decency to look ashamed of his mild offense.

“I am- I am so sorry, young lady.”

Now, it was nearly Marie’s turn to choke. _Young lady._ How old did they think she was? Just because she was small didn’t mean she was a _child._

“Um- oh, it’s fine!” she said, laughing somewhat forced. “It’s uh…been a while since I’ve been called that, too.”

“Oh- I didn’t mean to imply- Frank isn’t like that-“

“Who was at the door, Arnold?” a feminine voice called out, and next thing Marie knew, there was Stein’s mother.

All six feet and two inches of her.

Marie almost fainted. “You didn’t tell me your family was composed of _giants_ ,” she mumbled, curling close to his side.

“Where do you think I got my height from? Genetics-“

“Is that my darling boy? Franky? KIDS!” she yelled, likely calling his cousins. Who were all well over the age of thirty. “FRANKY IS HERE!”

“Ah, Golda, perhaps-“ Stein’s father tried to say, as though to give Marie a chance to actually meet the woman, but it was too late. Next thing she knew, she was being crowded in on all sides by massively tall gaggles of random family members who had dragged the two of them inside, and she grasped Stein’s button up as though it were her only saving grace.

“Frank! Is it true you resurrected a man?-“

“How have you been, my sweet nephew-“

“How is it possible that you got more gray, little cousin?”

And so on and so forth as Marie’s mild eep was completely drowned out, and Arnold, Stein’s father, looked out in pity as Golda stomped her way through the crowd to grab her son’s cheeks and kiss each of them in turn.

“Oh, I’m so happy you could make it, boychik! Come! Dinner is almost ready and you can-“

“Grauntie!” a small voice called out, likely one of the nephews or nieces. Marie wondered if it was a strange combination of Grandma and Auntie. Or Great Aunt, perhaps?

“Yes Hannalah?” Stein’s mother said, patting Stein’s cheek.

“Who’s the small lady?” she asked, curiously, and all activity ceased as everyone looked down upon Marie, standing a solid two feet shorter than everyone else.

“I…um…I brought pie,” Marie said, weakly, now having grasped all of Stein’s arm to clutch onto.

Golda blinked. “Frank?”

“Mother…this is Marie.”

The silence was near palpable, and Marie gulped nervously. “Hello.”

“…how is she so _small_?” someone remarked, only to be immediately elbowed.

“You can’t just ask people why they’re so small! It’s rude!”

“But she’s miniscule!”

“Woah! I’d heard of standgebläse before but-“

“Don’t let Golda hear you use that filthy word-“

“ She looks like-“

“Tinkerbell!” Golda remarked, looking delighted. “Oh my goodness, you’re my boy’s soul mate?” she asked, and Marie lit up bright pink.

“We’re- I mean it’s- partners and-“

“Oh, Franky! Why didn’t you tell me? You used to have _such_ a crush on Tinkerbell when you were a child, do you remember?” she asked, having already grasped Marie by the arm and begun to lead her over to the table. “Oh, I just can’t wait to talk to you! Franky’s been so hush hush about it all, you know! But, goodness, I can see why he’d want to keep you all to himself!”

Marie’s blush deepened. “Oh- Mrs. Stein-“

“Oh, please just call me Golda, darling!”

“That’s- Golda- that’s so kind, thank you so much, but-“

“Mother,” Stein groaned. “Not the story-“

“Yes the story, boychik! Now, Marie- did you know that…”

Stein covered his face with his hand.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

After countless stories, too many looks across the room where Marie had laughing eyes, and a million relatives he had to meet all over again who cleaned nonexistent smudges off of his cheeks, he was beyond glad to get to carve the turkey.

His mother, however, was almost too deep in her giggling about something or other with Marie to notice, though the entire family had gathered around the table, waiting for the food to be brought out. Marie’d seemed to have charmed both his mother and grandmother, and his Ma and Nana were sitting at either side of Marie, the three women chatting excitedly. Stein looked back down at the turkey, squashing any embarrassment at the stories they were likely exchanging.

Still. She fit in so well.

Nonetheless, he had a job to do. A few years ago, Stein had an electric carving knife, that he liked a tad too much, so he got the usual knife ever since.

Not that he minded. It wasn’t the most painstaking work in the world, nor was it particularly precise, but it gave him a hell of an opportunity to cut something open in a socially acceptable setting.

And it was all going so smoothly, too. That was, until a plate reached his mother, and she gasped, whipping her head up, looking at Arnold from across the room. But it was too late. It was-

“This turkey’s spinal cord is fascinatingly miniscule in comparison to the body mass it exhibits,” Stein remarked, blinking curiously as he glanced into the cavity of the turkey, and his mother had a panicked look in her eye as she turned to Marie, ready to tell her to please not leave him just because he’s strange. She rather liked Marie. Probably too much. She was already ready to refer to her as her daughter in her head and was determined make her all too much challah bread.

But Marie only giggled, her voice pitched low. While everyone else looked mildly disturbed, Marie’s twinkling laugh seemed to carry, and it brought a small smirk to Stein’s face.

“Isn’t he adorable?” she asked quietly to his mother and grandmother, and both women paused at that, looking from Stein to Marie, the two of them sharing a moment as they locked eyes. Golda nodded as Nana smiled, the two of them knowing that before the night was out, they were going to sneak up to the room upstairs and find the old ring that Nana’s grandmother had passed down for generations.

Marie grinned as Stein made another comment, something about innards that had most of the table cringing.

Golda and Nana shared a knowing look.

Soul mates, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SteinMarie Week 2016! Yes, it's here, people! Look alive and relax and prepare for 7 days of one shots. Ayy. 
> 
> Written for Day 1's theme: Smol/Tol


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